Page 21 of Tight End

“Brixton, I—I didn’t know,” he sputters. “We didn’t have anything to do with the transplant. Donors are always anonymous. Chase had been on a waiting list for years and that was the night they got one. We had no idea it was your brother who saved his life.”

Then he reaches for my arm. His palm scalds my skin, fingertips sending electrical pulses shooting up to my shoulder.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Your brother was dying, not mine.” Anger bubbles deep in my chest, my gaze dropping to his hand. “For two years, I’ve had to live without him when Chase has the only part of him that’s still living.”

My vision blurs, head foggy from the whiskey I downed on the way here.

After Tyler found me at Half-Moon Bay, there hadn’t been time to think about that letter. He made sure I was occupied from the second we got to the venue and didn’t leave my sideuntil we took the stage. I didn’t tell him about what happened at Allie’s, and he didn’t ask since he’s used to my shit. The guys were concerned that I’d taken off again and when they asked, I wouldn’t say why. It hurt too much to think about, much less talk about.

Lane would be the only one I’d tell but when he casually said Lucas, Jase, and fucking Sam Hartley were in the VIP suite, I silently spiraled.

I don’t know how I even made it through the show. Snippets from that letter wallpapered my mind and floated in front of my eyes, a voice I’d never heard before reading the painful words as I tried to focus on what the hell was happening on stage. Then when the guys said they wanted to hit Doc’s afterward, I said I was going back to the hotel.

But knowing Sam was going changed my mind. I needed to unleash the fury on someone and he seemed like the right mark. Why the fuck not? He got what he wanted and I was the one who was robbed. And if I’m being honest, a small part of me has been gnawed apart by guilt because of the spark I’d felt in the chapel with him. He was grieving and I was thinking about things that God obviously felt the need to punish me for.

Maybe if I’d never had those thoughts, Davis would be here today. I wasn’t praying for him to survive because I thought he was in the clear. Maybe if I’d kept my focus on something other than what I’d have liked to do to Sam, he’d have been saved after all.

Now I hate like hell that I felt anything for Sam Hartley. It feels almost like…betrayal. That I chose lust over my brother. That may sound fucked up but it’s how I feel. And it’s why I’m shaking with anger now, because I’m choked by something similar to what I felt that night.

I need to get the fuck away from him.

Gritting my teeth, I pull my arm out of Sam’s grip. “Don’tfucking touch me. You have no idea what I’ve gone through since that night.”

He nods. “And I’m so thankful for that. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been on you. But this isn’t on me or Chase or my parents. You know it but you want to blame someone for what happened and I’m the closest target. Fine. Say whatever you want. But you know as well as I do that attacking me for a decision I didn’t make won’t bring your brother back.”

Sharp pains shoot through my insides like lasers, igniting my fury. I fist the sides of his shirt and back him farther against the wall. He lets me, doesn’t put up a fight. He just stares at me.

“Stop being so fucking rational. I want to tear your head off your body right now,” I growl.

“You know it won’t help. It’ll only bring you more bad press.”

My vision floods with red. “Oh, and you think you know me after reading a few tabloid articles?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “I know enough to say that guys who have their heads screwed on straight don’t go looking for trouble at bars.”

I ball my hands into fists. “You don’t know anything about my life.”

“And I’m not pretending to. But you’re in the public eye. A huge star. Do you think your brother would want you to throw it all away because of what happened?”

I recoil. “Fuck you, Hartley. Little Mr. Fucking Perfect. Your golden halo is blinding me, brah. What are you trying to prove with all your do-gooder work? Huh? You got skeletons in your closet or something? What the hell are you trying to make up for?”

“You don’t know anything about me either,” he says through clenched teeth.

We stand there, toe to toe, heated gazes locked on eachother. My head spins, clouded with a carnal mix of desire and fury. I don’t know whether I want to punch him in the jaw or crush my lips against his.

“Hey, B. Where the hell have you been?”

I slowly turn my head in Lane’s direction. He looks between us, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You guys know each other?”

With a tight nod, Sam pushes me away from him and rounds the corner, leaving us alone.

“Dude, what the hell is up with you? You look like you wanna kill that guy.”

I rake a hand through my hair and slam the other hand against the wall for support.

“Forget it.” Pushing past him, I let out a sigh. But he grabs my wrist and yanks me back.

---